


Great Ex-Pectations.

by footballffbarbiex



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Break Up, Exes, F/M, Friendship, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footballffbarbiex/pseuds/footballffbarbiex
Summary: Antoine comes face to face with his ex girlfriend several years after a messy break up.





	Great Ex-Pectations.

Great Ex-Pectations. 

 

I can’t believe that at 24 I’d be hiding in a restaurant toilet. But here I am doing exactly this. I hadn’t thought seeing those blue eyes and messy dark hair would have rendered me useless whilst having a small panic attack in the toilet. I‘d almost choked on my drink when I saw him before making excuses to my friend and rushing to the toilet.  
6 years. It’s been 6 years since I saw him in person and I can still remember the smell of his skin, the feel of his stubble against my cheek and hear the moans when we were intimate.  
The truth was, I’d never let anyone else in like I had with Antoine. We’d agreed mutually to call it a day, the distance would have been too much and we both couldn’t bear the thought of not being with each other that often. Even though it was a mutual decision, he’d initiated the conversation and it had broken my heart.  
Had I agreed to call it quits on our relationship? Yes. Had I really, truly wanted to? No. Not seeing him often but being his girlfriend was better than not at all.  
But he’d seemed set on this idea and had broken my heart. 

Sighing and deciding that I need to be an adult and be brave, I splash my cheeks with cold water and exit the toilets.  
“Missed me?” I feel my stomach drop at his words while my chest tightens.  
“Antoine,” I say his name and turn in the direction of his voice.  
“I’ve never seen you move so fast,” as I knew he would, he looks incredible up close. Those beautiful blue eyes stare down at me. His hair, shorter now than recent months is un-styled, my fingers ache to run themselves through it. He hasn’t shaved for a few days and it’s the look that I love and it does nothing to stop me wanting to kiss him all over again. 

“Well, things change,” I shrug, then realise how cold I sound. His smile falters at my words and I know I’m being snappy when he hasn’t said anything to encourage this. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I didn’t realise you were back.” I try to explain and it was true. I hadn’t. None of our mutual friends had warned me this time that he would be back in town.  
Antoine shrugs this time and appears in no hurry to get back to his dinner date. “I didn’t realise that I had to tell you when I was coming home,” he replies, his tone matches mine; clipped, annoyed and sarcastic.  
“Don’t be shitty with me Antoine. I apologised for my tone. You don’t need to be the same.” I turn to walk away from him but feel his slender fingers wrap around my wrist, holding me where I stand and preventing me from leaving.  
“Please, don’t walk away.” His voice is softer now.  
“Why?” I snap, annoyed that his hand is still on me after the way he’s just spoken to me. “You didn’t seem to mind the last time I was in front of you.” The remark comes out before I can stop it but it’s too late. Hurt spreads across his face and his hand releases my wrist.  
“I deserve that.”  
“No, you didn’t.” I admit and bite the inside of my cheek, wishing that I could take it back.  
“Yes I do. I did walk away too easily and I know it wasn’t your decision to end tings. I never apologised for pushing that on you.”  
“You never apologised for sleeping with Erika so soon either but here we are.” I allow all bitterness to drip from my voice at this. This I fully intended to be bitter, happy that I was finally able to say what I’d always thought.  
“So you did know.” He doesn’t deny it but he doesn’t apologise either. Bastard.  
“Of course I did,” stupid I want to add but hold back. I run my fingers through my hair and glance at my table. My best friend sits there, her eyes on her screen. “Look, you’ve made your point to piss me off. Can I go now?”  
“Have dinner with me.”  
His words shock me, they take me back completely and momentarily freeze me.  
“Dinner?” I repeat, “Why would I want to do that?” I ask while kicking myself as I mentally picture my wardrobe and its contents.  
“We have a lot to talk about. You can shout at me and I can try to get you to forgive me. I’ll pay.” He pauses, runs his tongue along his bottom lip. I find myself hypnotised by this action. “And if I’m being perfectly honest, even if you have just insulted me throughout this conversation with some of it being justified, I miss you. I know that I have no right to say that to you, do I do. I miss you.”  
Despite all better judgement, I hear myself agreeing. 

The maître d’ directs me towards the table where Antoine sits fidgeting. His long fingers play with the stem of his red wine glass nervously while his foot taps beneath the table. He grins as I approach and I note it’s a genuine smile.  
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” he says as he gets to his feet and rushes round to my side of the table, ushering the maître d’ away so that he can pull my chair out and slides me under the table.  
“Thank you.” I hold back my smile, it’s an action he’s never done for me before and it’s only once he sits down and I see the subtle way his lip dimples that I realise he’s biting the inside of it just how nervous he really is. “You thought I’d leave you waiting?” I ask as he pours me a glass of wine. I note the label.  
“I remembered you liked this one.” He comments and sits back. His memory serves him very well, it always was my favourite. “But in answer to your question, yes I did think you would. I really didn’t think you’d come. You look beautiful by the way. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”  
I didn’t mind but had no intention of saying this to him and wanted to kick myself for allowing butterflies to begin at his words. “I did consider not turning up. Curiosity got the better of me,” I add.  
Antoine nods, accepting my honesty. “You looked as though you’d seen a ghost when I walked in.” His fingers play with the wine glass stem again.  
At the same time, we both lift our glasses to take a drink. I smile. He laughs. Even now, all these years later we’re still in sync. I want to hate myself for relaxing in his company, but it feels too good not to. More than that, it feels right.  
“In a way, I thought I had. It’s been many years Antoine. I really, really wasn’t expecting to see you today. Or any day actually. I liked that you moved away. It gave me time to get over you. Or at least a chance to.” I mutter the last part before taking a long drink and allow myself to think back to that time. Back to the two emotions that followed his leave. Emptiness. Complete and utter emptiness. Mixed with relief. I was so thankful that he had left and I didn’t have to see him around like a lot of my friends did when their hearts had been broken. Especially when I had found out about him and Erika.  
The emptiness turned to rage before dissolving into nothing; something I found much easier to cope with. Until I saw him on TV and felt an ache. An ache that made me realise that I was not over him like I thought.  
Even now, sitting across from him all these years later, that ache builds in my stomach. I’m still not over him now. 

“I’m glad that you could.” His words pull me back from my thoughts. He opens his mouth to say something else but quickly closes it as a waitress places two menus in front of us and promises to return in a few minutes once we’ve looked it over.  
“I wish I could,” I mumble, more to myself than to him and distract myself with the food options.  
“Sorry?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Could what?” I can’t look up though I can feel his intense stare. I swallow hard and again, reach for my drink, hoping it will provide some dutch courage.  
“I haven’t gotten over you.” I finally say. My words are met with a wall of silence.  
I lift the menu and hide behind it; thankful to be away from his looks. Neither of us speak for a few minutes. I’m no longer hungry but select a dish anyway and put my menu aside, only to find Antoine looking at my wine glass deep in thought.  
“You still love me.” It’s not a question and I’m scared for his reaction.  
I simply nod.  
“You still love me?” He repeats as his eyes meet mine.  
“Yes.” I whisper and wait for his answer.


End file.
